


Young Man's Head; Dead Boy's Heart

by nfra3711



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Afterlife, Character Death, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 09:24:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5863681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nfra3711/pseuds/nfra3711
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yukimura's dying and he knows it. He wishes Shiraishi would stop fighting for him and move on- something Yukimura knows will never happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm usually not very into writing sick Yukimura, but apparently marathoning House at 4am does things to you and I just _had_ to inflict the emotional pain to my dearest otp :') Inspired by season 4's finale (hence the title).

It was unbearable.

He’d never given it enough thought- it was tingling toes and cramps on the elbows- but he was running thirty laps per practice session and more or less abused whatever strength he had across his two arms. He didn’t think it was anything, that the fact that he was short of breath and constantly felt like he was slapped by a bed of needles; he was an athlete- and a good one at that- and different from most athletes he didn’t rely on more… convenient yet phony methods to achieve results. He was proud of what he was and he had his display of trophies and medals to back him up. He was fine. It was _normal_.

Until one day he couldn’t get up and it was more than just nothing.

It was humiliating.

When it was just his legs he’d tried to put out all of his shame and let his mother guide him to the bathroom. When his arms gave in and he couldn’t swallow food half the time he ate, he’d let his boyfriend feed him and the doctors and nurses do whatever they thought was necessary. But when he couldn’t argue or speak or make the tiniest damn argument to prove a point that he was _fine_ , it was more than he could handle.

It was painful.

It was painful and he just wanted it to end.

It wasn’t the first time that he’d let it escape his lips- involuntarily or not. It was tiring and depressing and frustrating and he saw no end to it and he just wanted to be in peace but for many reasons people— _everyone_ , decided it was in his best interest that they kept him on whatever tubes and suspicious liquid and God knew what else they were shoving into his system just so that he could see another day. Another sunrise and another sunset and another round of stupid, meaningless pain.

_He just wanted it to end._

His eyes blurted open when the door skidded. He thought of gracing the unwelcome interruption with a groan but decided it wasn’t worth it. He knew who it was anyway.

“Seii.”

The gentlest voice. The kind, soothing voice that his ears had grown so accustomed to- the one that would’ve wooed him and given his stomach fluttery butterflies had it was a different circumstance.

But it wasn’t.

The young man who’d just entered the room dragged a stool closer to the bed. He sat as he carefully placed a fresh arrangement of flowers on the bedside table, puffing it up before forming a tiny yet content smile.

“How are you feeling?”

He turned to look at the other young man on the bed, the smile on his face grew a slight bit.

God, that smile. How Seiichi wished he could rip it off of his face and watch as his jaw bleed. He was sick of it; the same question, the same gesture, every day and every night. The only little things that made him happy, that _used_ to make him happy, about Kuranosuke’s daily visits was the different, unique flowers he’d brought with him every visit- like a merry burst of colors in Seiichi’s life that was getting duller and narrower each minute, and that Kuranosuke was the only person who’d talk to him about anything that wasn’t his sickness and his probable-but-very-likely doom. But when he’d been in that building in that same room for the longest time and Kuranosuke insisted on being there every single day, even the most perfect lover would eventually run out of things to say- and there were only so many flowers out there that would have made the slightest sense in flower language- presented to a slowly dying patient.

It was getting old. And stupid. Just like the short and miserable bits and pieces of Seiichi’s life that remained. And even those were deteriorating.

But Seiichi’s lack of response wasn’t something new to Kuranosuke, and he’d long learned not to let it offend him.

“I bumped into the nurse in the hallway,” Kuranosuke said, and Seiichi just wanted to yank his hand away from his boyfriend the moment he felt the familiar tender touch. “She said you’re doing great today.”

“I’m still dying.”

It was bitter, dry, and Seiichi knew it didn’t surprise the other man, as he’d heard it come from him a million times or more.

He didn’t have to look to know Kuranosuke was making that face, still, that face that used to push Seiichi to force a smile and hold on to his hand, making pathetic attempts to tell him that he was fine and everything was going to be alright.

Not that it mattered anymore.

“You’re making progress, Seii.”

His voice was hushed and less than convincing, but Seiichi had been long gone from caring.

“I know it’s slow and you think it doesn’t mean anything. But it does. Anything means something. You being alive means everything to me—“

“Just shut up, Shiraishi.”

The following silence was piercing. Seiichi almost immediately felt guilty for dismissing him like that. He knew he didn’t mean to hurt him, he never did, and he knew he never would. Seiichi just wished Kuranosuke would stop being so nice- would stop spoiling him rotten and catering to everything Seiichi asked for and never once stopped him when he’d said words that hurt too much. Kuranosuke didn’t deserve this. He was far, too good for a dying boyfriend who couldn’t even at least pretend that he wanted to live.

_Move on. Just move on._

Yet the words never made it to his lips.

“It’s Valentine’s in two weeks.”

There was an inaudible tremor in Kuranosuke’s voice, something one would completely miss if they hadn’t been close, hadn’t been intimate enough.

“I was thinking of taking you to dinner.”

“I can’t even take a leak on my own,” Seiichi scoffed.

“We can do it here.” Kuranosuke’s grip on his hand tightened. Seiichi had to work not to wince. “Your doctor gave me an okay. It’ll be just the two of us. I’ll make your favorite.”

Another scoff. This time with an aggressive eyeroll. “That is if I even make it two weeks.”

“You will.”

He brought Seiichi’s hand closer to himself, giving a warm peck against the back of his palm.

“I know you will.”

“How do you know?”

Kuranosuke stared at him. “Because I believe in you.”

This time Seiichi really did pull his hand away from the offending lips, grunting in dismay.

“That’s what you told me last week. And last month, and the ones before it.” He huffed, trying not to suffocate himself over something so trivially repetitive. “That’s what you told me when I started getting sick. That it would be okay. That I would be just fine. You believing in me has obviously worked _wonders!”_

The blond usually wasn’t one to accept getting yelled at. But it was Seiichi and he was different and he had to maintain his calm because he had to be the one to do so between the two. But Kuranosuke was twitching and Seiichi knew damn well he was upset.

“Does it make you that angry that I believe in you? In my boyfriend? Does it upset you that I don’t want the person I love to die?”

“Unfortunately your love can’t cure me, Kuranosuke.”

“It can’t, but it’s got to count for something—“

“Like _what_?!”

The piercing silent was back and this time Seiichi felt less guilt and Kuranosuke was less still. Kuranosuke was always the more emotional between them, and while Seiichi hated every single time he had to use that knowledge for their sake- for their _good_ sake, there were times when he had to pull the trigger. He couldn’t do this to Kuranosuke anymore; the guy had done enough. He had to let Seiichi go. He had to.

“Face it,” Seiichi whispered, finally. “I’m going to die.”

Kuranosuke remained in his place, trembling arms on his sides and face turning a shade of red- trying to hold back tears.

“You only want me to believe that because you want me to leave.”

It always amused him when Kuranosuke proved that he knew Seiichi better than Seiichi thought he did. It was a tad bit annoying and sometimes inconvenient, but Seiichi welcomed the gesture- it showed how much he cared, how much he was committed and it convinced him for some fleeting moments or the other- that Kuranosuke would never let him go.

… and perhaps it was true, but oh how Seiichi wished it wasn’t right now.

Kuranosuke opened his mouth, yet the words just hung loosely in his throat. Seiichi could see them almost spilling out, just as clear as the tears that were dwelling in his eyes. It pained him, and it almost convinced him to apologize, but Kuranosuke was already standing up before anything made it out.

“Kura—“

“Good night, Seiichi.”

And just like a blow of the wind, he’d upped and went, leaving only the brightly colored flowers in the vase and lingering remorse all over the air.


	2. Chapter 2

It was 7 pm the next evening, about an hour since Kuranosuke would be out from work. Seiichi leaned his shoulders forward to peek into the glass door, hoping- or perhaps not hoping- that the familiar figure of his lover would pop up in the hallway any time soon.

He repeated the same thing, twice, thrice, four then five times every ten minutes, all hoping for the same result, all ending in the same result.

It was almost eleven, and Kuranosuke was still not there. The vase on the bedside table was empty, and Seiichi had started to notice the subtle lack of colors in his dulling and narrowing life.

He’d never given it too much thought, but perhaps boring routines of the same bouquet every other week was better than the black and white he was seeing.

\--

It was morning, and Seiichi was sure he’d gotten not more than a grand total of forty minutes of sleep, which surprised him, as he’d always thought he’d probably already been stripped from all senses of time he had- clearly he was wrong.

He hopefully glanced to his bedside; no sleeping figure of his boyfriend next to him and the vase was still empty. When the nurse walked into his room for his morning check-up, he asked if Kuranosuke had left a call when he was asleep. The negative response left him sulking, and the nurse offered to call for him if he missed him that much.

He decided to be fair and gave him some time.

\--

It was night again, and the soaps they had on the (very) limited TV channels were starting to bore his mind out of his skull. His friends from college had dropped by in the afternoon, and dropped him a few things that they hoped could make his time spent in bed a little less agonizing; but sketchbooks and markers and handheld games weren’t much of a solution when his arms were as sturdy as a noodle. Books were a bit more forgiving, but even for someone so fond of literature as much as he did art, there were only so many words and sentences that he could stuff into his brain before he wished he had enough strength to slam dunk the thing into the nearest trash can.

It was unbearable.

The vase was lacking of pretty flowers and the room was lacking of the smell of Kuranosuke’s woody cologne and it wasn’t fair that he was going to be robbed off the few last things that could actually make him happy.

_It wasn’t fair._

Perhaps he wasn’t being fair to Kuranosuke. He _knew_ he wasn’t being fair to Kuranosuke. He’d tested his patience and pushed into his boundaries when all he was doing was to care enough—to love him enough to insist that he was anything but a dying young man; something that Seiichi desperately needed someone, anyone to do, yet no one did. No one but his boyfriend.

He’d apologize to Kuranosuke right the next time he walked in through that door. And he was _not_ going to die before that.

\--

It was the third day when his mother and little sister showed up, with flower arrangements that were more matching colors than embedded intricate poetry. Still, Seiichi appreciated it nonetheless, yet his little sister made a remark of how unusually content he was.

Seiichi raised a brow and wondered if he was usually that distant if not aggressive. His mother patted him on the shoulder and convinced him that they understood, that what he was going through wasn’t something easy and everyone would have reacted the same way.

It didn’t bring him comfort, only heightened his pressing urge to apologize to Kuranosuke and hug – or attempt to hug, whatever his limbs would allow- him.

“Shiraishi wasn’t here last night?” his mother gently, almost carefully asked, not wanting to deplete her son’s (somehow) good mood.

“No,” he shook his head. “He hasn’t visited the last couple of days.”

“Did you two have a fight?”

Seiichi sighed. It was one thing when Kuranosuke could tell what he was thinking, but he should’ve known better that his mother, out of all people, could practically read his mind. It was black magic, or how some others would’ve put it- motherly instincts.

She sat next to him on the bed, with Seiichi intuitively leaning his head against her shoulder as she pulled him close, her fingers against his dulling hair felt heavenly and he wished he could always feel that right.

“You should apologize to him.”

He let out a husky breath. “I know.”

\--

He hadn’t seen Kuranosuke in a week. He thought giving him some time to himself and stepping out his boundaries would be of help, would make Kuranosuke calm again as time did the favor for Seiichi. But apparently it wasn’t the most effective call on his side and he knew he had to do something to save their relationship from suffering unnecessary pain.

His cell phone wasn’t picking up- figured. At this point Seiichi had suspected that Kuranosuke was purposely avoiding him. A jerk move, but Seiichi wasn’t going to let him get away so easily.

He called a few of Kuranosuke’s friends from work and all of them said the same thing; that he hadn’t shown up to work the past week. Seiichi was certain it was them- bribed by their blond friend with the cheeky smile on his face- trying to cover up for Kuranosuke in case his asshole excuse of a dying boyfriend started to search for him.

He called a few more people from his office, this time ones that weren’t as close to him- yet they all said the same thing. Kuranosuke really hadn’t been at work, and his boss was really going to fire him if it continued that way.

It wasn’t uncommon that his boyfriend played pranks on people- there were times when he took amusement from watching people’s reactions. But this wasn’t ‘common.’

It was a long shot, but Seiichi then decided to ring Kuranosuke’s parents’ house’s number back in Osaka- a number Kuranosuke gave to him after the second time he brought Seiichi home as his boyfriend- because hell knew whatever could cause him to rush his ass back there without telling him. He selfishly wondered what could possibly be more important than his sick boyfriend, but decided it was a topic for another day.

He had expected either of his parents or his sisters to pick the phone up, but oddly enough, it was his cousin, whose name Seiichi distantly remembered from one of the few Shiraishi family parties he had attended before- not that it mattered- not now, at least.

He’d hoped what’s-his-face would give him a lead to wherever his missing-in-action boyfriend was, but it, too, ended in failure.

He started to think that Kuranosuke wasn’t just playing hide and seek.

\--

It was the tenth day and usually Seiichi would have been bursting with anger- because if Kuranosuke wanted to- _dared_ to ditch him that way, he had better say good bye to his pretty little face because the next thing he’d know was that his head would be flying off the rest of his body. Yet Seiichi was on the edge and full to the brim with anxiety because he _knew_ Kuranosuke wasn’t ditching him.

He’d jump and turn his head so hard he almost pulled a muscle, every time the glass door slid open. The first time it was his doctor, the second time it was a nurse, and so was the third time. The fourth and fifth time were his mother and his father respectively, trying to no avail to offer him some comfort, some hope, that Kuranosuke was probably facing some tough time with _something_ , _somewhere_ , out there.

The rest of the day continued that way, and as the sun set Seiichi had exhausted himself just by thinking, just by coming up with a thousand of different scenarios of what might have happened to his boyfriend, his lover- the person he loved so much he wished he hadn’t said what he did the last time Kuranosuke was here. Hadn’t made him cry.

It was 7 pm and it was when Kuranosuke would usually walk in with fresh flowers in hand- face bright and hair neat despite the hellish day at work Seiichi knew he must have faced. He could always tell. Kuranosuke was never really good at lying.

He shut his eyes tight and hoped he’d fall asleep soon so he wouldn’t have to think of Kuranosuke, and the fact that Kuranosuke wouldn’t be there tonight either. Yet the door skid quietly and it was enough to make Seiichi sit straight up his bed.

“Kuranosuke—“

Except it wasn’t, and his face fell.


	3. Chapter 3

It was Kuranosuke’s friends from work that night, a couple of them. Seiichi didn’t think he’d talked to them enough to make them feel obligated to pay him a hospital visit, so he immediately deduced it was something else.

Something very, very bad.

“Hi,” one of them started, the mercilessly bleached hair identified him as Oshitari, with an attempt so pathetic, really, but it was the least of Seiichi’s concern. “Yukimura.”

“Yes.” It wasn’t even a question, and it would take an idiot to miss the overwhelming hint that Seiichi didn’t want useless greetings and re-introductions- he just wanted Kuranosuke and they better give him a good reason why they were there in his place instead.

“We’re here to talk to you.” The guy standing next to Oshitari continued where his friend left off, the impossibly tall posture easily reminded Seiichi that his name was Chitose. “About Shiraishi.”

Seiichi’s throat was already dry and he had to suppress all the urges to yell at them to tell him what was wrong already, yet all he could manage was a weak nod as he watched the tension in everyone’s faces grew thicker.

“He won’t be coming anymore.”

\--

Everything after that was a blur, and he could only make out a tangible jumble of words. _Midnight. Bus crash. A lot of blood. Organ failure._

Kuranosuke wasn’t dead that night he left the hospital, left Seiichi’s room, for the last time. He was rushed into another hospital across town and his family was alerted immediately- telling him that his chance of surviving was already slim. That was why no one was home when Seiichi called- they were there, just a few kilometers from where he was, being told that their precious, precious son could die at any given moment.

He lasted a couple of days, and for a few hours there was hope that he’d make it out of all this alive. Yet he crashed right after, and the rest was history.

_There was nothing that they could do._

Seiichi had heard those exact words more often than he could tolerate, and he was sick to the core of it. But it was always about him and him alone and it was never about Kuranosuke. It _shouldn’t_ have been about Kuranosuke.

Yet it was, and Seiichi wasn’t even given the chance to listen to Kuranosuke whine about pain and suffering and how terrible and miserable he was and how life was unfair. Kuranosuke had endured all of Seiichi’s complains and yet Seiichi wasn’t there when he breathed his last- when he died.

_When he died._

It repeated in his mind- like a broken record. Over and over again and he momentarily forgot about his pain.

He pondered about how serene life was with the absence of pain. He couldn’t remember the last time he was ever so pain-free, the last time he felt he had enough strength to do whatever he wanted.

It was the best he’d ever felt in years, yet he wished, he _begged_ for it to stop. For someone to make it stop.

_Make it stop._

\--

He opened his eyes and all he could see was white; blinding and pure and free from stain and soil. He realized he was sitting on a surface firmer and substantially less comfortable than his hospital bed- and that he wasn’t in his icky hospital gown. He felt like himself again as he noticed those were his own clothes; his nicest shirt and his favorite knitted sweater, and the blue scarf secured around his neck that was a gift from Kuranosuke last Christmas… then the smile that had just surfaced fell again.

“You know, that was a really pretty smile.”

Seiichi jumped up his feet in surprise as the voice filled the otherwise hollowly empty space. He was spluttering nonsense as he backed away from the figure now sitting in front of him, smiling the sweetest smile and head tilted to the side- adoring the view.

His back hit solid surface and he almost tripped over- when he noticed a pair of odd things that stuck out above the rest of the oddities; that his legs were working the way they should and Kuranosuke was there.

“How…— You—“

The blond was still smiling and Seiichi frantically looked around their surroundings. Rows of seats, plastic hand holders hanging from a long metal rod sitting just below the ceiling, windows on every side through which he could see nothing but more white, and Kuranosuke—

“You’re dead.”

It wasn’t what Seiichi wanted to say, yet it involuntarily left his lips. Kuranosuke replied with a silent nod.

“I’m dead.”

“Not yet.”

Seiichi stared at him, hoping he would grace the short respond with something more- something that would calm him down, something that would make him fear for his life- _anything_.

Kuranosuke was still smiling, but there was nothing more to it, and Seiichi could only slump back into his seat, defeated.

“I should be,” he retorted low, finding it the most surreal how real Kuranosuke felt next to him; warm and firm and convincing that he was _there_ \- and Seiichi was dying to touch him, if he hadn’t died already.

“Why?”

The question didn’t feel like one coming from his lips.

“Because life shouldn’t be like this. I was the one dying. I was more or less dead anyway. You— you on the other hand…”

Seiichi bit his lip. He could feel Kuranosuke’s stare boring into his temple, and it was frustrating that this didn’t feel like Kuranosuke at all.

“You… had a lot going on. You had a life. You had a job and friends who love you and people who respect you and a family who just wants you safe and a—“

Kuranosuke cocked his head, as if urging him to tell him the remaining of the sentence. Yet Seiichi was silent and he didn’t know what better ways to carry on with this conversation- conversation with his _dead_ boyfriend.

“I didn’t—“ Seiichi gulped, “I didn’t want you to suffer with me. I didn’t want you to waste your life on me. If I had to die I wanted to die seeing you happy. I wanted you to move on, that’s why I wanted you to—“

“That’s why you wanted me to leave.”

Kuranosuke finished the statement, voice and tone identical to the last time Seiichi had seen him- alive.

“I know, Seiichi.”

He pulled him closer, letting Seiichi rest his head against his chest, a gesture that would have comforted Seiichi like nothing else- but there was nothing so comforting about the vacant, creepy blow of the wind- like a harsh reminder slapping him across the face, that Kuranosuke was dead and he wasn’t here and he was probably back in his crappy hospital room hallucinating after an overdose of whatever shit they injected him with.

“You have to go back,” he whispered in his ear, but it only drove Seiichi to cling harder into him, into cloth and flesh that didn’t quite feel real on his fingertips.

“There’s no pain here,” his voice was shaking, his face was buried deeper into the folds of his shirt. “I don’t hurt anymore, I’m not dying anymore.”

“It’s unfortunate,” the velvety sensation smearing softly against his lips almost felt like a kiss, like his mouth was pressed against warmth and wet and the too familiar messy sloppiness but also that he was making out with air. He didn’t like it; both that he kept on being reminded again and again that none of it was real and that he knew he wanted more, that the more he dug his nails into Kuranosuke’s back the more he was slipping away. Seiichi could see him, still smiling and face unchanging, as he pulled away, and it tore him down into pieces as he gave in and broke into tears.

“… but you can’t always get what you want.”

\--

As he came to, there were beeping noises of the machine, nurses yelling words to each other and to other people in the room, doctors flashing light right into his eyes-

He flinched.

It was a blur of colors and sounds, but he could make out of his parents crying and hugging him, and his sister looking pale and horrified, clinging into his arm and screaming sobs as if her life depended on it.

It wasn’t blinding white anymore- at least, not when the after effects of the flashlight had scurried off. His body was numb all over again, and there was that icky robe he was wearing again.

He could only let a tear escape his eye- enough when he couldn’t muster even the weakest sob.


	4. Chapter 4

It was foggy that morning as the rain had finally starting to clear. He’d waited for his bus for an hour, and had gotten tired of checking his watch every twenty seconds and tapping his foot to the pavement impatiently. He’d had a long day, and he only wanted to get home and be comfortable. What was taking the damn thing so long?!

Soon the silhouette of the bus surfaced against the thick layers of fog. As it came into a halt in front of the station he waited in line as the people in front of him diligently got on one by one without the slightest noise and without any bumping against each other- which was odd, he thought, as he’d never seen a line for the bus being so charmingly organized.

Judging from the length of the queue he’d expect the bus to be packed to the doors, and he would definitely have to spend the next five station long ride home standing up and squished among the who-knows-how-many sweaty, damp from all day work, people that were already in there.

He groaned in agony as he stepped up the bus ramp. He’d turn to face the overwhelming size of crowd- _smelly_ crowd and braced himself to snake his way into that stinky pit one way or another.

Yet it was empty.

Everything was clean and it was definitely not smelly. He pivoted on his heels only to find out that he was by himself, facing the completely stainless, soilless bus interior, the windows as clear as they could be, yet he couldn’t find even hints of the grey fog outside, and it was just white. _White_. Just… white.

“Seii.”

His shoulders tensed upon hearing the voice, coming from his back. He didn’t have to look to know who it was. There was no way he could mistake a voice so familiar with anything else in the world. The tears were in his eyes again, threatening to erupt any moment.

The other boy was smiling.

 

_“Let’s go home.”_

 


End file.
